A Friend In Need
by Fullmetal Knight
Summary: Desperate times come for desperate measures. Even when you have to call on someone you would rather punch sometimes.


**A/N: This is set immediately after both NCIS episode "Pyramid" and Burn Notice episode "Acceptable Loss"**

**Synopsis: When you're in trouble you call on whoever you can to help. And hope they don't use that opportunity to stab you in the heart.  
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**Michael's P.O.V.**

Anson had murdered my father.

I don't know what is more disturbing and unrealistic. The fact that Anson had my dad killed. Or that my dad possibly felt regret and guilt over how he raised me and Nate. I mean I joined the Army. Nate became nothing more than a gambling addict who knew when to perform a good hustle and get himself into trouble. But still the possibility that my father showed remorse tells me that...maybe the man who my mother once loved had been in there. Somewhere deep inside.

But I can't let that cloud my mind. That's what Anson wants. To get in my head. To get me off my game. Bringing up my father, his death, and the life I had with him before I left my family is to get me off edge. And right where Anson wants me. I have to save Fi somehow. But so far Anson has been able to predict every possible outcome. And now I find myself in a choke hold. A choke hold I don't know how to possibly get out of.

I need to plan something. Find information on Anson. Do anything I can to stop him. If Vaughn was right then Anson is trying to rebuild the organization that burned me. And what ultimately set me on my path here. I have to stop him by any means necessary. Going to Pearce could get her hurt. Something I can't risk. Max died after I told him my suspicions of this not being over. If I told Pearce what I knew I would be sending her to her grave.

Anson killed my father and is trying to take Fi away. I can't let that happen.

I'll do whatever it takes.

"Hello Michael." The all to familiar British accent calls out to me while I'm in my loft. Yogurt in hand as I get ready to eat it. I know who this is. Someone I've long since dreaded ever seeing again.

"Hello Trent. It's been a long time."

When you're a spy you tend to be forced to work with people who you, in a million years, would never want to even be in the same room with. Sure some people can appear charming but that's the way of the game. They never show their true colors. Especially when it comes to being a spy. Charming your enemies any way you can until they're within your grasp.

And then you promptly squeeze their necks until they suffocate and die.

At least that's how Trent Kort, C.I.A. Operative, use to see it a long time ago. And probably still does. I haven't spoken to this man in a long time.

I turned now to face the older operative. Someone I, begrudgingly, could say I learned the spy game from. A few tricks here and there. We had done plenty of operations for the Agency. Some of which I have never told any soul. And probably never will. It's not something I like to bring up for dinner.

Even I can't hide my shock at seeing the bandage and tape over the man's left eye.

"I have to admit Michael. I was a bit...shocked when I got your call." Kort makes his way from the doorway now. Examining the loft. "Heard about your burn notice. Wanted to come by but you know the rules..."

"Yeah." It's all I have to say. Anyone I even considered a valued associate had not even come to see me in Miami. The only people I have been able to depend on were Fi, Sam, and my mother of all people. "So what happened to the eye?" Might as well be blunt about it.

Trent shifts uncomfortably. As though reliving a very bad memory. A nightmare actually.

"A project for the Agency that ended badly. Had to hunt down the subject. Let's just say I was to good of a teacher." Now that caught my interest. I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow now as I had paused with the spoon almost up to my mouth with the next part of my yogurt hanging there.

"That bad huh?"

"You have no idea. The Operation was with good intentions of course."

"Just like the road to Hell." Trent just glares with that one eye of his before shaking his head.

"Well we finally got him. Well not me. I was caught. But I was freed by some...associates. I have to admit if it wasn't for Gibbs or Vance I might not be here right now. Not that I would ever admit that." Gibbs. I'll have to look him up one of these days. Maybe follow up on whatever this operation was. Having some kind of leverage over Kort and the Agency could prove useful for the future. I take that bite now before moving over to my table.

"Heard about Larry. Bad news. Can't say I won't be mourning his death." 'Dead' Larry Sizemore. My old mentor. The one who had turned on me and had tried multiple times to get me to join up with him for "old times sakes". Even I'm shocked as I turn to look at Trent now.

The funny thing is that it's because of Larry that I met Trent Kort of the C.I.A. It had been a black ops mission. It had ended perfectly. An extraction. Larry and our team had been posted outside a rather nice looking mansion. While our liaison, Kort, had joined us for the mission and had confirmed our target's presence within the mansion. We then infiltrated. The mission had been to extract the supposed founder of a possible terrorist cell. But Larry had jumped the gun. Murdered the man just for the fun of it. Needless to say if Larry hadn't faked his death then Trent would have made damn sure Larry was dead. Afterwards Trent was my way in to the espionage life. He had been my first training officer before I was able to fly on my own. Even though I sometimes questioned Kort's methods, I know that I preferred him over Larry any day.

The British man has a bemused look upon his face. "What Michael? Did you think we weren't on to him? We were eventually going to nab him but he decided to die at the British Consulate's Office."

I freeze now. Pondering what to say at this point. Does Trent know about Fi? It's possible. But there weren't that many leads. Anson supposedly has them all wrapped up. Ready to spring them if I don't do his bidding. Even I can't help but smile at the man before turning and moving towards the table. Multiple files on it. "Yeah about that...We need to talk. What do you know about a man named Anson Fullerton?"

End.

**A/N: And that's it folks! The basic concept of this was that both men are bad ass C.I.A. operatives who MUST have known each other at some point in their careers. And therefore Michael knew that he could count on Trent to help him with his Anson problem. Hope you enjoyed one of the many cool crossover ideas I have gotten. See ya next time!**


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